


r.i.p.

by leetheshark



Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020)
Genre: M/M, Parent Death, ZsaszMask Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:09:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27210241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leetheshark/pseuds/leetheshark
Summary: The day after Roman's mother's funeral, he and Victor visit her grave.ZsaszMask Week Day 2.
Relationships: Roman Sionis/Victor Zsasz
Comments: 10
Kudos: 20





	r.i.p.

It’s cold in the cemetery. A special kind of cold, like walking through a crowd of ghosts. Victor has a beanie pulled down over his ears. He tightens his scarf around his neck, wishing he brought gloves.

Victor hasn’t been here in twenty years, since the last time he visited his parents. As he walks along the rows of headstones, over the frozen earth, he wonders how many people here are in the ground because of him. He remembers most of their names. Maybe, when Roman’s done, he’ll let Victor take a look around.

Or he’ll bitch about the cold and make Victor leave with him right away.

Victor decides not to ask.

Roman’s wearing earmuffs and a sleek black peacoat. He has gloves on, but not his embroidered leather ones. Proper, winter gloves. His cheeks are flushed pink, and every few minutes, he rubs at his nose. It doesn’t take long for them to find Roman’s mother’s grave. It’s the one covered in flowers; her funeral was just yesterday. Roman didn’t go.

He kicks a bouquet off the fresh dirt and into the grass. “Ugh,” he says. It comes out more like a whimper. Roman’s lip curls, and Victor wonders if he’s going to start crying. “Fuck.”

“’M sorry, boss.” Victor doesn’t know what else to say.

“Don’t be. Her kicking it was a fucking blessing.”

“Hah. Yeah.”

Victor pulls his scarf up over his nose. Roman’s breath puffs clouds into the air.

“Would it be _undignified,”_ Roman asks, curling his mouth around the word with distaste, “to piss on her grave?”

Victor grins his crooked smile. “That gonna stop you?”

“Fuck no. I’ve been waiting for this for years.”

Roman takes off his gloves and stuffs them in his jacket pockets. He unbuttons his coat and starts to undo his zipper, and Victor looks at his feet to give Roman privacy.

“You know you can look,” Roman says. “It’s not like you haven’t seen my cock before.”

“You want me to look?”

 _“Eugh._ Don’t make it weird.”

Victor still doesn’t look.

Once Roman’s done, Victor peeks from the corner of his eye as Roman rights his clothes again. Roman puts his gloves back on, then wraps his arm around Victor’s waist, pulling him close. “Oh, Mr. Zsasz. We should celebrate. Let’s go to dinner.”

“Sounds good, boss.”

Roman withdraws his arm and pats Victor hard on the back. There’s a smile on his face, even though his lips are turning blue. He stands there for a moment longer. Victor shivers, warming his hands in his pockets. In the cold, the promise of a warm dinner is even more appealing than usual.

“Goodbye, Mother.” Roman whips around and stalks away. He doesn’t bother to avoid stepping on the few other fresh graves. “Good fucking riddance.”

“Good fuckin’ riddance,” Victor echoes, trudging after Roman through the wisps of a beginning snow.

**Author's Note:**

> beta'd by [jacket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacketarearmpants) 💙


End file.
